Quotes from Cameron Dokey

The kind of cold that comes when the heart gives up on itself and abandons hope, a cold no fire on on earth could ever warm.

Constanze d'Este loved you and all you might create together. You thought you loved her, but you loved yourself more.

But it is not my mother's heart that is buried there. Instead, I think that it is yours.

He may be good-looking, but he's got no more sense than a pailful of earthworms.

My father might never claim me, but here, in this moment, I had finally claimed my mother for my own.

You did not lose! You gave it away of your own free will. You gave me away. You gave away love.

There was no sense in adding to her distress by not taking care of the things she valued.

But the scent of my father's hate could not be washed entirely away. It clung to my skin, a faint rotten spell.

And so the child of cinders went to the ball.

For who could deny, literally in the face of so much wonder, that love was the greatest magic of them all?

Your father threw away the greatest gift your mother could bestow- the gift of what their love created.

As if the years he had spent interpreting signs that no one else could even see had stretched him, pulled him out of focus.

Every kind of power has its own boundaries, Etienne. That is you know its strength and its form.

If we treat him like an enemy, that's all he'll ever be.

But my heart rebelled.

Still, a custom that has not been strictly outlawedmay always be revived.

Everything is beautiful in its own way, ma belle, even if you have to look hard to find it.

Their glowed as brightly as any candle in the room.

And, much more than hate, it is pity which is the opposite, the doom, of love. For to love or hate truly, you need to be equals, or at least close in strength. But pity is a thing which flows from the strong to the weak.

He had wasted the span of my entire life.

Opposites contend

Men are quite unobservant, you know. They see only what they wish to see.

Grief and sorrow are one and the same. But until you feel regret for what is now forever out of reach, you do not truly mourn.

Perhaps love and hope are one and the same.